


The Absence Of You

by ennui_ephemera



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake Character Death, Fluff, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Witness Protection, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennui_ephemera/pseuds/ennui_ephemera
Summary: Neil Josten has been a liar his entire life. Neil's secrets got him killed and they linger after he dies, making the Foxes wonder who Neil really was, if they knew him at all. The aftermath of their beloved striker's demise still hurts the Foxes, most of all Andrew Minyard, who probably knew him the most when he was alive.What they don't know, is that Neil Josten has thwarted death ever since he was a small child and he's done it again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to post this on monday/after the new year started but i was too excited and i also thrive on validation so enjoy a new fic!
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:**  
>  several mentions of a character death, grieving/mourning for said character, alcohol and smoking, depictions of depression, a character hurts themself by punching a wall

Neil Josten had been dead for two weeks before Andrew acknowledged that Neil had meant something to him. Before, Andrew spent those two weeks locking himself in his bedroom or spending hours smoking cigarettes until he could almost feel his lungs growing black and shriveled. He thought about it a lot in those two weeks, smoking until he couldn’t breathe anymore, until he couldn’t feel anymore. 

It was easy to ignore his feelings for Neil when the junkie was always around and pestering Andrew. Now that he’s gone, all that’s left of Neil is the nagging ache Andrew carries around in his heart. He’s stuffed it away and snuffled it as best he could, but the more he tried to silence it, the more it grew until the ache was a ragged, bleeding hole in his chest. 

Andrew took a swig straight from the whiskey bottle as he stared out across the Fox Tower parking lot. He’d made it more than half-way through the whiskey before his fingers started to feel numb and his hands stopped shaking. When he moved too fast, his vision blurred. Another couple swings of the alcohol and Andrew would be drunk. If he finished the bottle, he wouldn’t even remember most of it.

Andrew knew he was pushing his limits, and that it was especially dangerous to be drinking alone on the roof on Fox Tower, but Andrew couldn’t find it in himself to care. His body felt hot all over, as if he were getting a fever. Not even the cool March air could soothe the flames licking across his skin. Maybe it was the whiskey. Andrew took another swallow anyway. 

He didn’t want to go back to sleep, to the cruel clutches of the nightmare that woke him, sweat-slicked and shaking. Andrew was familiar with nightmares, familiar with the way it made him weak and vulnerable when he first woke up from them. In the second it took him to wake up fully and gather his bearings, emotion always tended to seep through to rest at the top of his skin before he could sink back into apathy. Andrew didn’t want emotions, and he didn’t want anyone to see him vulnerable. Andrew Minyard wasn't _vulnerable_.

Andrew knew very keenly how his usual nightmares left him choking with the phantom sensation of hands on him. He would never grow used to it, but he at least he recognized it. But this nightmare was so much worse. 

Worse, because it was about Neil. Worse, because Neil only lived in Andrew’s dreams until he was gone when Andrew opened his eyes. Worse, because Andrew had to watch Neil die over and over again until he could fight his way to consciousness. 

Andrew took another gulp of the alcohol, closing his eyes as the liquid burned going down his throat. He willed the images of the dream to go away as he yanked his emotions back into a box he could keep under lock and key. If he could, he would rip it clean out of his chest and throw it off the roof and let it crash to the cement below. Andrew didn’t want them, not when they cracked him open from the inside out. 

Eyes flying open, Andrew threw the whiskey off the roof and didn’t wait for it to shatter at the bottom before he went back inside, slamming the door behind him. For good measure, he slammed it again. Then he kicked it. It still wasn’t enough so he punched the sturdy plaster beside the metal door, again and again until his knuckles were bloody. 

He wanted to tear apart the entire building, burn the whole world down until nothing was left but smoke and rubble. Rage flickered inside him like an old monster, snarling with every kick and punch Andrew landed on the wall. When Andrew thought the anger would consume him, his fist broke through the plaster and a hand tapped lightly on his shoulder. 

Renee stood a couple steps down the stairs, backing up to give Andrew more space when he whipped around, his bleeding fist still clenched. She watched him with calm eyes while he reeled in his anger and smothered the flames threatening to overwhelm him. He stared at Renee blankly. With the anger gone, his energy was sapped right out of him.

Renee hadn’t stopped looking at him with those sad, tired eyes since the Foxes got back from Baltimore with one less loud-mouthed striker. Andrew hadn’t spoken a word to her or anyone else since he had threatened the FBI agents when they didn’t let him see Neil in the hospital. He fell silent and stayed that way when they announced that Nathaniel Wesninski was dead and his uncle was coming to collect his ashes. He remembered being angry then, too, but mostly he felt empty.

“You need to talk about this, Andrew,” Renee said quietly. Even if Andrew’s tongue wasn’t stuck to the roof of his mouth, he wouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t need anything. He certainly didn’t need to _talk_.

“We all miss Neil. He was family and it hurts that he’s gone. It’s okay to hurt, to be upset that he’s not with us anymore. But –” Renee cut off at Andrew’s glare. She knew full well he didn’t want to hear any of that religious ‘he’s in a better place’ bullshit. “But we’ve all been talking to Betsy about it. She helps, I swear she does.”

Andrew shook his head. Bee had called a couple times in the past few weeks, but Andrew let it go to voicemail every time. Bee’s office had always been a sort of safe-space for Andrew, and it still was, but Andrew couldn’t handle walking in there at the moment. The thought made him feel unstable.

“Do you want to spar?” Renee suggested. Her voice was gentle like it always was, and Andrew knew that Renee would never pity him, but her tone made him snarl. The anger was back, fast as a whip, sharp as a blade.

“I don’t want anything,” he snapped, voice raspy from disuse. Andrew stopped himself from clearing his throat and pushed past Renee, leaving her behind in the stairwell. “Leave me alone.”

Andrew didn’t go back to sleep even though he returned to his bunk bed. Neither Kevin or Nicky were awake, evident by their loud snores from each of their beds, but Andrew suspected Aaron was only pretending to sleep. Andrew’s scowl was shrouded by the cover of darkness, but he was sure Aaron could still feel the waves of anger wafting off of him. 

The anger didn’t go away until night bled into morning. Andrew watched the dark sky fade to a dull gray with droopy, burning eyes. When he heard the tale-tale sounds of his roommates waking, Andrew pressed his back to the wall and curled up under the blanket. Above him, Nicky shifted in his bunk and mumbled something incomprehensible in his sleep.

Kevin hadn’t made him go to practice the day before so it was likely he would try to get Andrew out of bed today. He knew Andrew didn’t like to be touched – especially when he was asleep – and Kevin had some semblance of a survival instinct, but Andrew kept a hand wrapped around a knife under his pillow anyway. If Kevin knew what was good for him, he’d leave Andrew alone completely. 

The yellow bruises around his throat from Andrew’s hands still hadn’t faded, after all. Kevin was sure to remember it.

When Andrew heard Kevin’s heavy footsteps pause by him, Andrew tensed, but Kevin only walked to the bathroom and left him alone with his knife and blankets. Aaron was the next to get up, by the sounds of the creak from the opposite bunk, then Nicky when Kevin came back and harassed him to get his ass out of bed. Still, all of them let Andrew be.

When the room cleared out and he was sure the others had left the dorm, Andrew pushed the blanket off of him and sat up. His head throbbed from sleep deprivation and too many missed meals and every muscle seemed to ache despite Andrew mostly staying in bed all day. The alcohol couldn’t have helped, either. His knuckles were still crusted with dried blood from last night and they were starting bruise to a swollen, dark purple. 

Andrew pushed himself up and ignored the growing migraine to clean off the cuts. There was no point in bandaging them, so Andrew left his knuckles to air out and wandered into the kitchen. Lately, everything he tried to eat was tasteless ash in his mouth, so Andrew skipped breakfast and sipped at a water instead of the rest of the vodka Nicky had stashed away. Bee should be proud of him. 

Time passed slowly, and all at once. In five minutes or five hours the team was back from the gym so Andrew retreated from the living room back to the bedroom to avoid them. But of course, he was never that lucky. He’d just crawled back into bed and pulled the many blankets to his chin when Nicky walked in and crouched down in front of him. Andrew wanted to hate him for it but he couldn’t feel much of anything at all. 

Aside from Andrew, Nicky had probably taken Neil’s death the hardest out of all of the Monsters. Andrew didn’t care how well the Upperclassmen were handling it, he only had enough space to care about his people and that was it. But Nicky had been grieving since the moment they got back to the dorms. The monsters spent spring break over at Abby’s house, and Nicky had spent a lot of time in her arms, crying quietly or loudly. Crying, one way or another. 

Andrew didn’t know how one person could cry so much. Nicky cried, but Andrew didn’t. His chest was caved in, collapsing his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. Even if Andrew had the air in him to cry, he wouldn’t, couldn’t cry. 

Between mourning for a person that didn’t really exist and the practices that only grew more intense and rigid since the Foxes were eliminated from the season, Nicky looked exhausted. There were dark bruises under his eyes that Andrew was sure matched his own and his face looked constantly red and puffy. Sometimes Nicky’s sobs were in Andrew’s nightmares, too.

Nicky didn’t know what Neil was to Andrew, didn’t know that Neil was _anything_ to him at all, but he knew that Andrew was only getting worse. Nicky’s sad puppy-dog glances in Andrew’s direction were only increasing and although his attempts at checking up on Andrew were always ignored, he kept prodding anyway. 

“Do you need anything?” Nicky asked gently. Andrew grit his teeth and considered pretending he didn’t hear. But maybe if he answered once, Nicky would leave him alone. Andrew continued to stare right through Nicky but he shook his head slowly. 

“Are you sure?” Nicky said after he realized that was all he was going to get out of Andrew. “I can make you something to eat. I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich, you know I would. I make the best grilled cheese.”

He did, but Andrew was never going to admit that. The thought of food didn’t make him feel so queasy anymore, and his stomach hurt from not eating for so long. Andrew thought about it and nodded once. He ignored the way Nicky’s face almost lit up and fought the urge to close his eyes and give into the heavy exhaustion. The ache in Andrew’s chest grew. 

A few minutes later Nicky returned with a plate stacked with grilled cheese sandwiches and left it on the desk with a glass of water. “Do you need anything else?” he asked. When Andrew didn’t respond Nicky nodded solemnly and got up to leave the room. “If you need anything else, text me and I’ll get it for you.” 

The door behind Nicky closed with a quiet _click_ and Andrew let the silence envelope him once more. 

Andrew only picked at the sandwiches despite not having eaten anything more than a bowl of ice cream the morning before. He tore the sandwich into tiny pieces with his fingers and ate about half of it and left the rest. He washed it down with a couple sips of water and then shoved both the water and the rest of the sandwiches away. At least it was something. 

On the bed, Andrew’s phone buzzed with a text message. It was either Bee checking up on him again or it was Wilds’ unsaved number asking when he would be back at practice. Andrew scowled. He didn’t want to return to practice, ever, but he promised Neil he would get the Foxes to championships and Andrew intended to keep that promise. He didn’t give a fuck about Exy but he gave a fuck about Neil. Andrew always kept his promises, even to a dead man. 

Even so, the Foxes weren’t going to championships this year so Andrew didn’t plan on going to practice as regularly as everyone else would. There was really no point when their season was cut short. He’ll go to the gym so he doesn’t lose his strength, but Exy could wait a couple of weeks. Let the team be mad about it. 

The phone buzzed again. Sighing, Andrew decided to get it over with and see who it was. When he grabbed his phone, he was surprised to find that he didn’t recognize the number at all. More, the message made him pause. 

Shortly after Baltimore, Andrew broke his old phone in half and threw the remains at Kevin’s head when people wouldn’t stop messaging him. Since then, Nicky him got a new phone, a gift to ‘make him feel better’. It was a smart phone, sleek in style with a sturdy black case with a picture of a white knife decal on it. He still didn’t have most of the Foxes in his new phone, only his monsters and Renee. Wymack and Bee were in there as well, on speed dial like on his old phone

But this number had no business messaging Andrew out of the blue. He didn’t give his new number to anyone outside of his group and no one would have given his number away without his permission. Andrew opened the blinking messages and stared at it. 

The first text message was an address to an apartment in Summerville, South Carolina. The town was about forty-five minutes south from campus, too far for anyone who went to Palmetto to live. The second message said only, _Don’t tell anyone. Come alone._

Andrew thought about deleting the messages and forgetting about them, but something like anxiety was spreading through his chest. He tapped his thumbs on the side of his phone as he thought. Then he texted back a simple, _wrong number_.

The phone screen went dark as Andrew waited for a reply. Maybe the person realized Andrew wasn’t the person he meant to send that to and he’d never get a response. When he was about to put his phone away and forget about it, his phone lit up with another text. Andrew’s blood went cold. 

The message said, _Andrew Minyard?_

Quickly, Andrew typed out on fingers he was forcing to keep steady, _who is this_ and pressed _send._

The reply came longer this time. Ten minutes had passed, long enough for Andrew to boot up Kevin’s computer and look up the area code of the number. It really was from Summerville, but Andrew didn’t know anyone from there. He had no idea who could be texting him. 

He was in the process of searching the rest of the number when his phone buzzed with the incoming text message. Andrew scrambled for it, his hand sending it flying to the ground. He crouched down and fished it from where it landed on top of Nicky’s dirty clothes. The message had one word, a name:

_Abram._

~ ~ ~

_This could be a trap,_ Andrew’s mind supplied, _or even a sick prank._ Neil Abram Josten was _dead._

But what if he wasn’t? If anyone was crafty enough to escape death a thousand times it would be Neil. After all, none of the Foxes actually saw Neil’s body. They’d accepted that Neil was gone, that he was never coming back. But there was no _proof_ he was actually dead. Andrew’s phone was burning a hole in his pocket, four little messages from someone claiming to be Neil, _Abram_ , scorching his skin. 

He didn’t let himself think it. He didn’t himself think that Neil could still be alive. Andrew was self-destructive, but he wouldn’t put himself through that.

Andrew swerved in and out of the mid-day traffic, ignoring the blare of honks from the angry drivers veering away to avoid hitting him. Instead of demanding a picture before he left the dorm, Andrew grabbed his keys and wallet and left the dorm and got in his car, ignoring Nicky and Kevin’s inquiries about where he was going and headed straight for the Interstate. 

Even if Neil was really gone, whoever really sent the messages was dead as well. Rage was no longer a flicker in his chest, but a roar in his bones that smothered something much smaller and much quieter. Something that Andrew didn’t dare call hope. 

Andrew made it to Summerville in thirty minutes flat. His phone had blown up with texts from Nicky and Renee by the time it took to get here, but Andrew turned the phone off instead of looking at them. He had the address memorized. 

After just five more minutes of driving, Andrew found the apartment complex. It was nothing special, somewhat shabby, but not run-down. It was absolutely mediocre. It would be too easy to overlook if Andrew weren’t already scoring the streets for it. 

Andrew threw the Maserati into park and slammed the door shut on his way out. He stomped to the first building and followed the numbers until he got to the 300’s building. As he climbed the stairs to Apartment #328, he slid a knife out of his armband. When he reached the door, he hammered on the door as hard as he could, blade in hand. 

The door swung open before Andrew could even drop his hand back to his side. Andrew’s stomach bottomed out and he nearly forgot to breathe when he took in the person before him. Standing in baggy gray sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt, his auburn hair was bright against the gloom behind him and his blue eyes were nearly shining. Even with all the bruises and bandages on his face, Andrew would recognize him anywhere. 

Neil Josten was alive. Too bad Andrew was going to murder him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyy :D i thought since pause and restart is coming to an end, i'd start another fic and i've decided on this one! i just want you to know that this was supposed to be a one-shot that was more silly than serious, buuut that's not what happened and now we have this! (i miiight write the other short little thing, but i'm not sure yet)
> 
> i have the outline finished and chapter 2 started, so i should be posting semi-regularly. in between updates, though, you should definitely come and chat with me!! my tumblr is knox-knocks. i post some little extras there as well other things i don't post here 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! comments and kudos are always very much appreciated <3
> 
> (also, if you think i should tag/warn of anything else, please tell me. i try and get everything but i'm bound to miss something. tags are subject to change as more chapters are posted)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings for this chapter:**  
>  mentions of torture and description of wounds, a character has a panic attack

Andrew grabbed the collar of Neil’s hoodie and shoved him backwards. Neil’s battered body throbbed as he hit the wall with a muffled _oof_. Something clattered to the ground between them but Neil couldn’t get a good look at what it was before Andrew was crowding him and blocking his view.

“Andrew –” Neil started but stopped when he saw the expression on Andrew’s face.

He was angry, beyond angry. Andrew was _pissed_. His hands shook where he had Neil pinned to the wall and his shoulders were bunched like he was preparing to throw a punch. Neil didn’t think Andrew would hurt him, though. Even when Andrew had enough anger in his eyes to swallow them both whole, Neil felt nothing but relief for the first time since he faked his death two weeks ago.

“Explain,” Andrew said, his voice guttural in his throat. The look on his face was bleeding and Neil hated that he was the reason for Andrew’s lost control, hated that he was the reason for the hurt in his eyes. When Neil didn’t answer fast enough, Andrew shifted his grip to Neil’s shoulders and squeezed until Neil winced. “ _Neil._ ”

Neil stared, suddenly at a loss of what to say. Before Andrew knocked on his door, Neil had everything he wanted to say lined up and ready to go. He had the speech prepared even before he texted Andrew in the first place. He had had two weeks to think everything through, after all. Between being holed up in his apartment waiting for his broken body to heal and keeping updates on the Foxes as much as he could get away with, Neil had a lot of time to think about what he wanted to say.

But now with Andrew here, with a shade of fear in his eyes, gripping Neil with desperate fingers like he couldn’t quite believe Neil was actually there, the words died on Neil’s tongue. His throat worked as he noticed the purple bruises under Andrew’s eyes from lost sleep and the way his clothes hung off of him in places It used to fit him perfectly. 

Before Baltimore, when Neil started receiving the countdown from Lola, Neil had thought Andrew wouldn’t be affected by his death. That was the only reason he let himself get involved with him, after all. But it was obvious that Neil’s death _wouldn’t_ have left Andrew untouched. Andrew, always so unshakable, so unyielding, was losing sleep because he thought Neil was dead. Guilt so staggering Neil had to cling to Andrew’s t-shirt to keep from collapsing to the floor threatened to shake Neil apart. Neil had done this to him. It felt like a gunshot to his chest. 

Now, Neil felt Andrew’s previous absence keenly, like a knife gliding across his skin. He hadn’t realized how much it stung until Andrew had his hands curled around his shoulders, close, but not close enough. Neil had been numb before, distracted by the fear and anger swirling around inside of him ever since he woke up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed, barred from seeing the Foxes. 

“Andrew,” Neil said again, softer. That was the only sound his tongue seemed capable of forming. _Andrew, Andrew, Andrew._ Neil reached up, slow enough for Andrew to evade if he wanted to, and traced the edge of a fading bruise on Andrew’s cheekbone with the tip of his pinky. It was nearly healed, yellow and green at the edges. Neil wondered if the bruise was from the riot at Binghamton. At that reminder, another shard of guilt pierced inside Neil.

“I want an answer, Neil,” Andrew said. The fingers around Neil’s shoulders were slackening as he regained control.

“Close the door,” Neil said, nodding to the door left ajar behind Andrew, “and I promise I’ll tell you everything. For real, this time.” 

Once the door was safely closed and locked, Neil led Andrew into the living room. There were no chairs or couches, the only furniture was a single coffee table that was low to the ground and a TV set up on the floor against the opposite wall. Andrew quirked an eyebrow at the poor excuse for a living room, but Neil shrugged. It’s not like he had time to go shopping for couches. 

Neil crouched down against the wall and Andrew sat cross-legged in front of him, leaning his shoulder against the coffee table. Neil thought about offering to get Andrew a drink or maybe some food, but all he had in the pantry was a box of granola bars and Neil didn’t think Andrew would appreciate Neil putting off his explanation any longer. 

Neil took a deep breath and began the same story he had to recite countless times to the FBI.

“My real name is Nathaniel Wesninski,” he said, forcing himself to meet Andrew’s eyes, “and my father’s name was Nathan Wesninski.”

Neil started from the beginning, filling in all the missing gaps and correcting the outright lies he had originally told Andrew. Andrew didn’t interrupt once, instead letting Neil speak until he couldn’t anymore. A sort of weight had settled over Neil since that day in Baltimore, and with every word, every hard truth and secret he gave to Andrew, it began to lift. He wavered when he got to the part about his mother’s death, but aside from a slight incline of his head, Andrew didn’t react to the bloody details. 

Andrew frowned when Neil recounted the weeks leading up to Binghamton. For the first time since Neil began his story, Andrew spoke up. “You were getting a countdown the entire time. You had to have known what was going to happen. Why didn’t you run?”

Neil’s mouth flattened to a grim line. “I knew that something was going to happen when the countdown reached zero, but I thought I had more time. I wasn’t ready to give all of that up yet. I didn’t want to believe it was over.”

“Junkie. Exy isn’t worth this.” Andrew motioned to the bandages on Neil’s face. Neil hadn’t let Andrew see underneath them yet. Technically he was supposed to take the bandages off and let them air out, but Neil didn’t want the first thing Andrew saw to be the extensive damage Lola had done to his face. 

“I didn’t know the countdown was from my father until it was too late. I received the call from Lola and –” Neil swallowed. “– they were in the locker room. If I tried anything, they would have hurt you or the Foxes. I wasn’t willing to run and risk anyone else getting killed.”

Neil’s eyes fell to Andrew’s hands in his lap. He never had the chance to tell the Foxes goodbye. And now they thought he was dead. Sorrow rose up in Neil’s chest and gripped his heart. It was a feeling he was beginning to get used to, these past couple weeks

“What did I tell you about playing the martyr card?” Andrew asked, prompting Neil to meet his gaze. 

“You said no one wanted it. You didn’t tell me to stop.”

“It was implied,” Andrew said, unimpressed.

“I’m stupid remember? I need things spelled out,” Neil said wryly. 

“One hundred percent. You’re lucky it’s not higher for not telling me the truth sooner.”

Andrew’s tone was even, but Neil still flinched despite himself. He had never felt guilty about lying to people before he came to the Foxes. Before he was Neil Josten, he was twenty-one other identities, all with different lies and stories for him to spin. Neil Josten was the most real he ever was, but he was still a lie. Somehow deceiving the Foxes – Andrew – felt like the worst thing he had ever done.

“I’m sorry,” Neil said. In the corner of his eye, Neil saw Andrew’s fist clench and tremble with the effort it took to not take a swing at Neil. 

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it,” Andrew seethed. After a few seconds his hand relaxed and Andrew allowed his fingers to uncurl. “I thought you were dead.”

“I can explain that too,” Neil said. 

“Show me these first.” Andrew tapped on Neil’s cheek, making him wince. It didn’t hurt, but the thought of exposing the wounds to the open air made the burns on his cheek twinge. When Neil didn’t protest, Andrew scooted closer so that his knees were brushing Neil’s. Then he ran a considering line down the side of Neil’s face as he decided which piece of tape to take off first. Luckily, Andrew chose the side with the knife cuts. 

Neil hadn’t looked in the mirror since he got back, too afraid to see the angry gashes and the whorl of fresh burns marking his face. The cuts and burns on his arms alone were enough to send him into a panic, Neil couldn’t bring himself to look at his face. When he needed to change his bandages, he did so without looking at his reflection, feeling around with careful fingers to prevent accidentally disrupting the healing wounds. 

Andrew took one bandage between thumb and forefinger and tore it off. Most of the cuts had mostly finished healing, but the deepest one, the painful gash stretching from the corner of Neil’s eye all the way down his jaw, still had yet to get the stitches removed. Andrew’s eyes traced the red lines, trailing up and down Neil’s cheek as if he were watching for the pattern of cuts to change. 

Neil studied Andrew’s face carefully when he reached for the bandages on his left cheek. Andrew wasn’t as rough peeling these ones off, but it still hurt like hell when the tape caught the edges of the burns and pulled at them painfully. Neil grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he saw that Andrew’s face was deceptively blank, but Neil could see the tension coiled in his body as he placed the bandages beside the other ones in his lap.

The burns couldn’t have been pretty. Every time he moved his face, Neil could feel them cracking and oozing. They desperately needed to air out and be treated, but Neil had been keeping them under the bandages as much as he could. He would be lucky if they weren’t already infected.

“What happened to your face?” Andrew asked. He caught Neil’s chin in his fingers and turned Neil’s head side-to-side so he could get a full scope of the awful view. Although Andrew’s gaze was detached and clinical, he moved a protective hand to Neil’s side and bunched the fabric he found there in a tight fist. 

Neil’s breathing quickened as he remembered Lola pushing the lighter into his face, burning away the ink on his cheek in the most violent way possible. When he closed his eyes, he could smell the stench of his own burning flesh, hear his own screams, ragged as they were ripped from his throat with each new cut and burn. The burns throbbed. 

“Dashboard lighter,” Neil said through the nausea rising up in his throat. The grip Andrew had on his chin and waist tightened. 

“You need to clean these. Did those useless doctors give you something for the burns?” 

Neil nodded. His chest felt too tight to try and talk.

“Why haven’t you used it, then?” Andrew’s lips drew in a thin, disapproving line. In a different circumstance, it might have been funny, but Neil felt the panic rising in his chest, quick and violent. 

“I can’t.” Neil choked. He just barely managed to get the words out before he doubled over and stopped breathing. 

What could have been minutes or hours later, Neil registered the cold hand on the back of his neck and the firm grip in his hair. The gray static cleared from his vision, and when Neil looked up, he found Andrew’s steady gaze on him as his mouth moved with words Neil was only starting to make out.

“– understand me? Stop it, Neil. I can’t help you if you’re hyperventilating.”

Neil gasped a breath and reached for the hand on his neck and gave it a shaky squeeze. Andrew fell silent and maneuvered Neil so that he was facing Andrew again. They stayed like that, Andrew holding up Neil until Neil could do it himself. 

“The person who did this,” Neil said once his breathing was mostly normal, “is dead. She died with my father. She’s dead. She’s _dead_.”

Neil knew he was babbling, knew he wasn’t making sense, but the past couple weeks have been a blur of panic and fear and Neil hadn’t realized how scared he was until he had to look Andrew in the eyes. His father was dead, and so were Lola and DiMaccio, but Neil still wasn’t safe. Which brought him to why he was in this apartment in Summerville, South Carolina instead of at Palmetto. 

“Andrew –” the words were thick as Neil dislodged them from his throat “– I wanted to come home, I swear. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to lose what I had, but I couldn’t keep it.

“In Baltimore, they brought me to my father’s house and he was going to kill me. I should be dead,” Neil said. He felt the desperate edge of panic overwhelming every other sensation in Neil’s body. He needed Andrew to know this, he needed him to know that he didn’t want to leave. Andrew’s jaw clenched. “I should be dead, but before he could kill me my uncle burst in and executed him.”

Neil’s breathing hitched in his chest. “I saw him die. I saw all of it.”

“Neil,” Andrew warned. But Neil shook his head. He swallowed the lump in his throat until he was able to talk clearly again. He slowly felt himself coming back, less panicked and more clear-headed. 

“When my uncle realized I was alive, he handed me over to the FBI and they took me to the hospital. I said I wouldn’t cooperate if I couldn’t see you and the rest of the Foxes but they said I didn’t have a choice. When I was able to leave the hospital, they relocated me here and tried to get me to change my name to Michael Halston.”

“They put you in Witness Protection,” Andrew said, linking the pieces together. Neil nodded. 

“I fought with them for a week, but they wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed.” 

Andrew’s brow wrinkled. “And they just let you contact me?”

Neil grimaced. “Technically, you’re not supposed to be here. But fuck them, the FBI doesn’t control me. Only Uncle Stuart knows I contacted you because I needed his help getting your number. I tried your old one but it didn’t work.”

“I broke my phone,” Andrew said. That would explain why Andrew’s old number was disconnected. 

“Stuart cut a deal with the FBI,” Neil explained. It was dangerous telling Andrew all of this, but Neil trusted Andrew with his life. “He’s helping them take down the rest of my father’s men – Romero, Jackson, they were the one’s in the locker room – and the Moriyamas. But I have to be willing to cooperate. That means I have to stay here and pretend to be Michael Halston.”

Neil didn’t mention that for a while, he was also pretending to be Neil Josten. Andrew conveniently ignored that fact as well. 

“What happens if the FBI knows I was here? Will they do anything if they find out I know you’re alive?” Andrew asked. 

“They’ll relocate me. There’s no way they’ll risk letting the Moriyamas finding me. They need my help to take them down,” Neil said, all matter of fact. It was the truth, even if he didn’t like it. 

Andrew grabbed a fistful of Neil’s hoodie and pulled him close. “I’m not letting you go. Not again,” he said, his voice steely.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Neil promised. “That’s why no one else can know I’m here. You can’t tell _anyone_.”

“No one will find out. I’m not letting anyone take you away from me again.”

Neil sagged into Andrew’s grip, falling forward until his head rested against the solid strength of Andrew’s chest. Before he got here, Neil was almost scared that Andrew wouldn’t show up at all. He had wondered if Stuart had given him the wrong number, or would even prevent Andrew from getting here. Mostly he was scared that Andrew would come and then tell Neil to leave again. Jagged relief ripped through Neil. He wouldn’t know what to do if Andrew never forgave him.

Giving up the Foxes had been the hardest thing Neil had ever done. Leaving them behind in that stadium without a goodbye had hurt more than any of Nathan’s knives had. Neil was willing to risk everything just to see them again. He would throw everything to the wind if he could have Andrew by his side one more time. 

Neil didn’t care what Stuart had to say, nothing would keep Neil from his Foxes. _Nothing_ would keep him from Andrew. He wanted to see the FBI try to take him away. 

The curtains in the windows were drawn, but the light in the apartment was quickly dimming. Neil hadn’t realized how much time had passed. Andrew had already been here for hours. Andrew seemed to realize the same thing because he asked, “Do you want me to stay the night?”

If Neil was being honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than for Andrew to stay with him. But Andrew needed to go back to the Foxes. He couldn’t risk them sending a search party and accidentally discovering Neil’s whereabouts. Still, the thought of Andrew leaving again tore a hole through Neil’s heart.

Andrew only stayed for about fifteen minutes after that, and with the promise that he’ll return soon, he left. Andrew was barely out the door before Neil wanted him to come back. 

Neil pulled out his phone and sent a quick message and hit _send_. Then he put away his phone, threw away the old bandages, and retreated to his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to post this ten days ago but stuff came up and my brain was being dumb so it's later than i wanted! but it's finished :) (I don't know why, but this chapter was really hard for me to get down. I rewrote the first thousand words about three times before i was satisfied.)  
>  ~~it works out though because i get to post this on my birthday!~~
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'm really excited for what's to come!
> 
> thank you to everyone for all the comments/kudos. i THRIVE on them


End file.
